No Law Nor Love
by 0torno
Summary: Nerdanel calms her husband.


The room was dark as the night in the outer lands when Fëanor returned to the house, heralding his arrival with a violently slammed door. Nerdanel guided him to their bedroom, gently but insistently putting pressure on his shoulder until he moved forwards, ignoring the angry words spilling from his mouth with every labored breath.

She sat cross-legged on the blankets near the head of the bed, and he sat reluctantly beside her when she beckoned. His hands were clenched in fists by his sides.

She pulled his head into her lap and he lay there loosely, one knee up, breathing hard through his nose. Eyes staring into the emptiness, his head was angled up although the taut muscles in his neck did not relax, and he did not melt into his wife's embrace or quell the electric tenssion in every joint. Nerdanel let a hand stray down to his throat, and the pulse leaping violently under her fingertips was as fast as if he had been running.

"I hate him," he said through clenched teeth, cracked voice shaking in anger. He sounded close to tears.

"I _hate_ him, Nerdanel."

His breaths came erratically, shuddering gasps that echoed sobs although the glimmer in his eyes was no brighter than usual in the shadows. She ran her fingers absently though his dark hair, stroking his head as she sought to calm him.

"It's alright, love," she murmured. "Shhh."

"I hate him for marrying her. I hate him for loving her. Am I not good enough for him?"

She touched his cheek lightly. "Shh. Shhh, now. It's alright, Fëanáro. It's alright."

His jaw, tight with pain, clenched and unclenched as though he struggled with words unspoken. "Why did she have to do it?" he asked at last, voice harsh and rough and desperately childish from raw emotion. "_Why_?"

"I don't know," she said softly. "I don't know, love." She looked down at the contours of his face in the darkness, the way the faint light illuminated one carven cheekbone and set a teary glow in his eyes and accented his straight nose. His mouth was set in a hard line, brow drawn in obstinacy and yet wearied by hidden suffering.

"I love you, Fëanáro," she said suddenly, leaning over to press her lips onto his in a desperate kiss. He responded halfheartedly, letting out a sigh of resignation as they broke apart.

"I would never abandon you," he said tremulously after a moment of silence. "I would never leave my family. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, my love."

"I would never treat you the way they've treated us, the way they've treated _me_."

"I believe you." She continued caressing his hair, drawing comfort from the silky strands between her fingers. The way his breathing gradually grew steady - and all shuddering ceased - assured her that his rage was past; his eyes closed with a sigh, and murmurs of appreciation left his lips as she gently massaged his scalp. The pulse in his neck that fluttered under her palm returned to a slow, stately beat.

They sat there on the bed, unmoving, for many minutes.

"I love you, my wife," he said at last, voice hoarse and weary and not altogether composed, drastically different from his usual smooth tone. She let a sad smile twitch at the corner of her mouth.

"I know."

"Do you love me, too?"

His words seemed half in jest, half the spawn of the painful underlying insecurity his mother and father imparted in him despite all their love.

Nerdanel closed her eyes briefly. "Of course, Fëanáro," she said. "We are bound by love and by law, forever and eternally united. Nothing could make me stop loving you."

He hummed in satisfaction, eyes still closed, almost asleep. "I think," he murmured, "I shall work tomorrow. You should make sure the boys don't get into trouble."

"And will you talk to Finwë?"

"No." He didn't open his eyes, and no shadow of a frown clouded his brow. "Why?"

"You..." she paused and swallowed. "You said some dreadful things. Don't you think you should apologize?" She felt the muscles of his shoulders tense under her hands.

"What I do with my father is my own concern," he said loudly, half-sitting up on one elbow and twisting to look her in the eye. "Atar will know I spoke in anger and will understand I meant no cruelty to him."

"You should apologize," she repeated quietly, fearlessly meeting his burning gaze. His lips pressed together and a dangerous flash lit his eyes.

"Let it go, Nerdanel," he said sharply. "My disagreements with Atar are known to him, and they have never caused prolonged strife before. I will not apologize for speaking my mind to my own father; though I love him much, his faults are many and grievous, and he should be reminded sometimes of the pain he has caused his son."

"I do not think he ever forgets what you think of his choices, Fëanáro," she murmured.

He slowly lay back down, resting his head in his wife's lap. "I do love you, Nerdanel," he said sadly. "Why is it that we are so often harshest to those we love?"

She ran her fingers through his hair, hesitating. "Love and hatred are often more closely intertwined than seems reasonable," she said at last.

"I disagree. Love and hatred are polar opposites; they do not even touch."

Nerdanel said nothing.

She kissed him again in the dark.


End file.
